


Conundrum

by Cofkett



Series: Puzzles [1]
Category: Castle
Genre: Drama, F/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:17:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8131924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cofkett/pseuds/Cofkett
Summary: Castle and Beckett get thrown into a universe where Johanna Beckett never died and they never fell in love - but not at the same time. Separated across worlds, will they find a way back to each other? And how will meeting them effect the alternate versions of themselves?





	1. What He Wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my beta, Shutterbug5269.
> 
> You can also find this story on ff.net under the same username. It is still a WIP. There will be things in this story that will confuse you. There will be things that don't seem to make sense. All will be revealed in good time.

"Katie, I'm so glad I finally got through to you."

Kate smiled and shook her head. She'd gotten three texts and four missed calls from her mother in the last hour, which she had missed due to being... preoccupied with her fiancé.

Josh had only just left for the hospital after being paged. She had known coming into this relationship that he worked crazy hours, just as he had known the same about her, but she was glad to have someone to talk to in his absence.

"Hey, Mom, was there something wrong with the painting?"

"No, no, it's beautiful; I still can't believe you went to all that trouble."

"No trouble, it was Mothers' Day. So what's the big emergency?"

"I just wanted to let you know that Richard Castle is on _Mickey Reed_ tonight."

Kate rolled her eyes. She had been something of a fan of the best-selling author in her youth. As work and life had gotten busier her obsession had lessened but Johanna was always sure to tell her of any news to do with the author. For the most part, she found this hilarious, but there were times when the news was a little more sobering, like his recent battle with cancer. Since that scare, she'd gone back to his work, rediscovering his classic stuff as well as trying out the books she hadn't gotten around to reading. She had just read the last book he'd released before his diagnosis, _Homage to a Murder_ , and loved it. She had already pre-ordered his next book, the first since going into remission.

"I know, Mom, I already have _The Late Shift_ on."

"Oh, alright. Well, I won't keep you."

"Hey, that's ok. I'll DVR it."

"Oh, I have to be getting to bed any way. Your father always wakes me up when he goes fishing and I want to get some sleep."

"How _is_ the simple life treating you, Mom?"

"Katie, it's great. Really, I love retirement. I just wish your father would let me get Wi-Fi for the cabin but apparently that would 'spoil the experience'."

Kate laughed.  
"Ok, well, I'll let you go. Get some sleep. I love you, Mom."

"Love you, too, Katie."

As she hung up the phone, Kate turned up the volume. Richard Castle would be on soon.

* * *

Rick slumped onto his bed in exhaustion. Why did his publicist have to book him on a live show that aired so late at night? Yes, he had been a frequent guest when Bobby Mann had been alive and hosting, but he'd been younger then; before the explosion that had torn the city apart again, unleashing the radiation that had caused him and many others to be struck by cancer. Before the chemo and radiotherapy had attacked his body along with his disease. When he was a playboy and not an embarrassing excuse for a man who'd all but lost his libido, who was still recovering from a bone- marrow transplant. When he'd enjoyed the rich, ladies' man lifestyle; the schmoozing, the mindless laughter at his cheesy jokes, the women, the endless praise. There had been a time when he had gotten bored of the tedium of it all, but even then, he'd still loved it, still basked in the perks of being Richard Castle. Now? He was just tired, and being at the studio for an hour, not leaving until ten-thirty at night, for a five-minute guest-spot pimping out a book, the success of which he frankly didn't care about one way or the other, was not how he wanted to spend his time these days.

He _wanted_ to get to the bottom of the bombing; there had always been something about the story that didn't make sense. His attempts to find out the truth were not exactly a secret and he didn't know what was worse; those who pitied him, seeing him as a desperate man seeking an answer for his hardships; or those who threw him in with the crazy unpatriotic conspiracy theorists - not that he hadn't enjoyed a good conspiracy theory in his time but this was different.

He _wanted_ to spend more time with Alexis. Of course, it had been he who had persuaded her to move into a dorm this year after staying at the loft to take care of him since his diagnosis. He wanted her to have the true college experience. But he appreciated the time they did get to spend together on a much deeper level now.

He also wanted to see the new _Star Wars_ movie.

To be honest, what he really wanted to do was down a glass of scotch - against doctor's orders - close his eyes and block out the world for a few hours. He was tempted by the scotch idea, but instead, he got changed, went back to bed and willed his mind to conjure a dream of a different reality; anything other than this one. He was grateful that he had survived, but there were times he really didn't want to be here, times he wished he was somewhere else. This was one of those times.

He was so very tired.

* * *

Kate looked up from her book when Josh entered the room. He kicked off his shoes and she smiled as he climbed into bed next to her and hugged her from behind.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Heart attack turned out to be a case of angina. "

"Well that's alright," she said, indicating her book, "I had Richard Castle to keep me company."

Josh chuckled at the back-cover photo of the author.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with that man lately. Should I be jealous?"

She shrugged.  
"I don't know. He _is_ ruggedly handsome. "

Josh feigned offence.  
"And I'm not? "

"Well, I'll give you _rugged_."

He chuckled and kissed her.

"I think I need to turn in," she said. "I have court tomorrow. "

"Ok, I have to take a shower. I'll try to be quiet. "

"Ok, goodnight. "

"Night. Give my regards to Mr. Castle. "

She grinned.  
"I will. "

* * *

Martha poured herself a cup of coffee.

Rick walked through the door of his study slowly, an odd look on his face.

"Good morning, Darling. I'm sorry you can't have coffee yet but there's still some grape-juice left."

"Ok," Rick said vaguely as he walked to the counter in a daze, sitting down.

"Kiddo, is everything alright? "

"I think so," he said quietly. "I feel... lighter. "

"Oh Richard, were you sick? I thought you were doing better. Should I call the doctor?"

"Doctor? No, no I'm fine, I just... had a bad dream. "

"Oh, well... was there a murder in it? Because Gina has been pushing you for the next manuscript and I don't want you to feel obligated or pressured to take on more than you can handle but a little inspiration couldn't hurt. "

"Gina's always pushing me for the next manuscript. I've got better things with which to occupy myself. Speaking of, where's Kate?"

Martha stared blankly at him.  
"Kate? Doesn't sound familiar. Have you started dating again? Is Kate a new... _lady friend_? Because if so, I'm glad you - "

"Very funny, Mother. Did Kate put you up to this?"

"Kiddo, if this Kate person stayed here last night, I haven't seen her. Maybe she left. "

"Ok, Mother, this isn't cute any more. Katherine. Kate Beckett. Where is she? "

"Darling, you're starting to scare me. Am I supposed to know who this Kate is? "

"I would hope so, seeing as she's your future daughter-in-law. "

"Future daughter-in-law? Richard, you didn't get engaged again so soon after surgery, did you? Oh, Darling, you do this every time something bad happens. First, you married Meredith much too quickly after Kyra broke your heart, and then after Gina's miscarriage you popped the question again; and now, you're - "

"Mother, this is ludicrous. Why are you bringing up my past love life when you can't even remember my current fiancée? Is this an early sign of dementia? Do you know what year it is?"

"Richard, you're being absurd."

"I'm being absurd?! Mother - " Just then, he caught his own reflection in one of the kitchen pots. He froze. After a moment, he jumped up and rushed out of the kitchen.

"Richard -"

Rick ignored his mother calling after him as he ran to his bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror, tracing the shape of his reflected features on the glass, before moving his hands to the real thing. His own mother didn't remember Beckett. He had woken up a good sixty pounds lighter than he had last remembered being - not in a good way - and his face looked pale.

He went back into the bedroom, confusion setting in with everything he saw that shouldn't be. He had been still half-asleep when he first awakened but now the differences were a lot more obvious. Everything was ostensibly the same but...every trace of Kate Beckett was gone. Her clothes, her scent...even the framed seashells he'd hung there himself were missing. Instead, Linus hung in his former place like he had never left.

He pinched himself.

"Ow!"

This didn't appear to be a dream. If it wasn't, what kind of messed up Bizarro world had he woken up to find himself in?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard Castle is not quite himself this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta, Shutterbug 5269.

When he had first woken up in his warm bed, he had been relieved that his experience of being kidnapped had apparently been a nightmare. Then, as he realized that this reality was not the one he knew, he'd thought he was living a nightmare within a nightmare. He had no idea what was real and what wasn't. Had that car crashed into his?

Had he been tied to a chair in a basement for days, maybe weeks? Had Beckett even been married previously? Had the whole Rogan O'Leary debacle been a part of his dream? Why had he felt pain when he'd pinched himself?

Was he going insane? Had he fallen off that cliff with his car? Was this hell; life without Beckett? A sickening thought took hold of him and he returned to the living room.

"Oh, Richard, are you alright? " Martha asked with concern.

"Alexis," he said.

"She's upstairs," Martha said. "She said she'd be up early, packing to go back to her dorm in Columbia."

Castle's whole body relaxed. Whatever was happening here, he knew he could live in a world without Beckett. Not that he wanted to (the very notion made his stomach turn) but he could do it. A world without Alexis, however, was not a world in which he wanted to live.

He headed towards the stairs.

"Uh, Richard, it may not be the best idea for her to see you in your current state of mind," Martha said.

Castle turned back to put a hand on Martha's shoulder.

"Mother, I can't pretend to understand what's happening to me, and I have always been honest with Alexis - " He hesitated. He still wasn't sure of every discrepancy between this world and the one he remembered. According to his mother's earlier rant, his history with women pre-Beckett was more or less the same here. But that didn't mean everything else was the same. What if his parenting style was different in this reality?

"Right?" he asked his mother for confirmation.

"Right," she replied.

He nodded.  
"But until I understand what's going on with me, it's probably best not to worry her," he said. "I just - I want to see her."

"Of course you do," said Martha. "Oh, Darling, after everything you've been through in the past two years, I'm surprised you've managed to keep it together as long as you have. "

Castle nodded, choosing to ignore this for now.

"We'll... discuss this later, ok, Mother?"

"Of course, Richard," she said, patting his arm.

He swore the staircase was longer than he remembered. Each step was an effort. He was slightly out of breath when he finally reached the top. Alexis's door was partially open. For a moment, he just watched her sorting her things into boxes. She looked just the same as he remembered.

Her head came up and she smiled.  
"Dad," she said. "Hey."

"Alexis," he croaked, running to take her in his arms. Dream or not, he'd believed he was going to die, fearing the prospect of never being able to hold her again. She didn't seem surprised by his show of affection.

She rubbed his back gently and looked up at him.  
"I'm going to miss you, too," she said. "But I'll still visit on weekends."

Castle smiled.  
" I'm so proud of you. Do I ever tell you that? "

She bowed her head bashfully.  
"Only every day."

He sighed in relief.

Alexis's phone rang. She dismissed the call.·

"Is everything ok?"

"Yeah," she said, squeezing his hand before returning to her packing. "It was just Max. Nothing you should worry about."

"Max?" Was she talking about her ex-boyfriend, Max? Castle thought to himself.

"It's nothing," Alexis said, "he just - he wants me to move in with him. Don't worry; I said no. We 're not ready for that. I mean, we've only been dating about sixteen months."

So, not so much an ex in this world. Good to know.

"Only?"

"Ok, so maybe it's been a while but I don't want to rush it. It's a huge step and not something I take lightly."

Seriously? Castle thought, but said nothing.

"I mean, you know that I haven't exactly been sure about Max for a while but...he's been so good to me. He's been there for me through your treatments and the surgery. I need someone reliable, someone I know I can count on, and Max ticks all the boxes."

Castle froze. The treatments; the surgery; not to mention his weight and complexion were all being added up in his mind and he didn't like the answer he came up with.

Even his hair had looked shorter when he'd looked in the mirror. He ran his hands through it now. It felt spiky and sparse. His mother's comments came into focus with a new clarity.

Oh, God.

"Dad?" Alexis said, looking concerned. "Are you ok? Do you need to lie down? "

"Uh... you know, I think that might be a good idea," Castle said.

"You're doing so well, Dad. There's colour in your cheeks - "

Just how pale had he been before?

"And you wrote an amazing book," she continued. "But it's good that you're not overdoing it."

He hugged her again so that she couldn't see his worried expression.

After Alexis had left, Castle and Martha picked up where they had left off.

"Mother, I am going to ask you something, and I don't want you to freak out over the fact that I don't know the answer, ok?" Castle said.

"Ok," Martha replied.

They sat down on the couch and Castle took a deep breath before jumping in.  
"Did I have cancer?" he asked.

Martha pursed her lips and paused.  
"Leukaemia," she confirmed.

"But I don't any more, right?" he asked, avoiding her gaze and peering at her cautiously through the corner of his eye.

"You've been in remission for the past three months but you're still recovering from a bone-marrow transplant," Martha said. "Darling, just how much do you remember?"

"I don't know," said Castle. "I can't tell which parts I remember and which parts are imagined. I can't even tell if any of this is real."

"Did this start when you woke up this morning or has it been going on longer?" Martha asked.

"I have no idea," Castle replied. "The last thing I remember is being tied up in a basement. "

"That never happened - well not in the recent past, anyway," Martha said. "Whatever you've been up to in the past is your business. Of course, I am not judging. Lord knows I've had my fair share of adventurous trysts. "

Castle shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.  
"Before that, I was on the way to my house in the Hamptons to get married," he said.

"I'm guessing the bride was Kate," Martha surmised.

"Yes, it was Kate," Castle confirmed.

"Well, it's not that I know every detail of your love-life but you have never mentioned a Kate. I don't - I'm sorry, darling, but I don't think she exists. "

Castle's face fell; he had already considered that possibility but somehow, hearing it out loud hurt not only emotionally but physically, too.

"I just - I can't imagine her not being real," he said. "She's been such a big part of my life for so long. I have six years of memories. I could describe the exact shade of hazel in her eyes in perfect detail. The precise shape and colour of the beauty mark on her cheek. I remember exactly what she smells like: cherry scented perfume on days she works; coconuts when she has the day off. And always with an underlying combination of skin and natural scent that is uniquely Kate. I know how she moves, how her voice goes down an octave when she's pissed about something and when she's at work. I know how she looks at me sometimes... the love that comes out of a mere gaze. Are you telling me I made all that up in one night? "

"Well, sweetheart, you are very talented - " Martha started.

"This makes no sense!" Castle exclaimed. "Kate is real!"

"Ok, I believe that you truly believe that," said Martha.

"Are you kidding me, Mother? That's what you say to a crazy person!"

"Well, with all due respect, Richard, dear, that's how you sound right now."

Castle shook his head incredulously.

"On the bright side, you do have a house in the Hamptons," Martha said.

"Well, that makes me feel a lot better." He sighed. "What's happening to me, Mom? " he asked desperately, using a name he'd rarely called her since he was a boy.

"I don't know, Richard, but we'll find out. I'll call Dr. Kale."

"Who's that? "

"She's your oncologist."

* * *

 

"Well, Mr. Castle,", Dr. Kale said, "by all evidence, your brain is functioning normally. The MRI picked up no abnormalities. No changes since your last check-up. Whatever is happening to you doesn't appear to be neurological and is probably unrelated to your Leukaemia. I'll have the lab run your blood-work to be sure, but all evidence points to you still being cancer free."

"So what does that mean?" Castle asked.

"I'm going to refer you to a psychiatrist to rule out mental illness, " Dr. Kale replied.

"A crazy test?"

"Mr. Castle, mental illness is a disease like any other," Dr. Kale said. "Besides, it's just a precaution. Psychosomatic memory loss is not unheard of after experiencing the kind of trauma you've been through recently."

"But it's not just memory loss," Castle pointed out.

"Your particular case is a little unusual, but I can understand how a man with a creative mind such as yours would want to imagine something better for himself," Dr. Kale said. "I don't think I have a patient who wouldn't want to forget the pain and discomfort of chemotherapy, radiation treatments and bone-marrow transplant recovery. I also think it best that you continue to see that therapist I referred you to. Your mother has her details. My understanding is those sessions are going quite well. "

"Exactly how many quacks do I need?" Castle asked.

"Richard, don't be rude," Martha admonished her son. "Thank you, Doctor."


	3. A World Without Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle searches for Beckett.

He scrolled though his phone, searching every folder and app for her name, anything that proved her existence, to no avail. None of her pictures, nor any of her text messages; no reminders of her birthday or their anniversary were in his calendar. He tried calling her number anyway. It was an active number, but it wasn't Beckett who answered; instead it was an accountant from the Upper East Side who'd had the same number for ten years and had never heard of anyone by the name of Kate Beckett.

"Mr. Castle, are you still on the line?" the desk sergeant from the homicide department at the Twelfth Precinct told him.

"Yes, I'm here," Castle replied.

"I'm sorry, but there is neither a Javier Esposito nor a Kevin Ryan currently working in this division, and no record of anyone by either name ever working in Homicide at this precinct. Would you like me to transfer you to a different division?"

"No. Uh... no, it's ok."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, don't worry; it's... it's nothing urgent. You probably have more pressing matters to attend to. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. Thank you. "

He was vaguely aware he probably shouldn't be out and about while apparently recovering from a bone-marrow transplant but he needed to know if she was out there. He noted that New York was still New York; at least the parts he was travelling. He knew the way to his destination by heart. The building looked just as he remembered, but as a lifelong New Yorker it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that he'd seen it before, stored it in his subconscious and used it as part of his delusion. Even after everything he'd seen thus far, part of him still felt disappointed when the voice over the intercom wasn't hers. Part of him still hoped this was some cruel joke being played on him, or at least that even if they had never met, she was still real somehow.

As a fan of his, the current tenant happily buzzed him up and welcomed him to have a look around what he knew as Beckett's apartment, his cover story being he'd known someone who'd lived there years ago. The apartment's layout was also exactly as he remembered it; then again, many apartments had the same layout. It was decorated very differently, with not a hint of Becket's artistic decor. Not a hint of Beckett.

The tenant informed him she'd lived there since 2010 and the previous owner had been a male Danish chef. He signed one of her Derek Storm novels and politely left.

When he returned home, he went straight to his study. The section he reserved for his own work was in the same place, only noticeably smaller. The Nikki Heat books were conspicuously absent along with the additional Derek Storm books released after Storm Fall. In their place were a few books about a certain British spy. Books credited to Ian Fleming, which he found curious. He'd never heard of any of these titles before. The publishing dates were relatively recent considering that Fleming had passed away in 1964. It seemed he hadn't imagined that offer and it would stand to reason that if Kate Beckett never existed, then neither would Nikki Heat. Minus the success of Heat Wave and the chance to follow his favourite homicide detective around there would have been no reason to turn down such an amazing opportunity. There was one more book: a standalone novel. He read the blurb and left it on his desk, and not just because the storyline opened up a whole flood of questions he wasn't ready to ask yet.

The British Spy books were one thing; he'd spent his childhood imagining adventures for that character, some of which he'd given to Derek Storm and some he'd never been able to incorporate into his own work. Those books were probably something along those lines. This book, however, was completely foreign to him. The idea that he could have written an entire novel without remembering a word hurt his brain. He had no interest in reading it; at least right now. Sighing, he retreated to his bedroom and collapsed onto a bed that smelled wrong; onto sheets that were too cold without the warm body that should be next to his; head resting on a pillow that was missing the long, brown strands of hair that should be there. He welcomed sleep in a pathetic attempt to block out the pain of living in a world in which the love of his life didn't exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big thanks to Shutterbug5269, whose contributions to this chapter were many.


	4. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle visits a psychiatrist who tries to help him figure out what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgements to Shutterbug5269, for adding a little more gravity to this chapter.
> 
> The word Conundrum refers to a confusing and difficult problem or question; a puzzle designed to be solved.

Castle didn't want to open his eyes. He wanted to hear her voice, to feel her lips against his skin, to hear the stream of water coming from his bathroom; anything that would tell him this entire day had been a long, crazy, vivid dream and he was back in the real world with her. If it wasn't, if this world without Beckett was real, he didn't want to know. Unfortunately his mother burst his bubble by knocking on his door and reminding him of the appointment with the psychiatrist Dr. Kale had referred him to.

* * *

Castle stared at the psychiatrist expectantly after laying out the whole story for him as he sat across from the middle-aged man in his office.

"So, what's the verdict, Doc? Am I crazy?" Castle asked, not really wanting the answer.

"Mr. Castle, you've been under a lot of - " the psychiatrist began.

"Stress, yeah, so I've been told," Castle said, cutting him off.

"I don't believe that this is schizophrenia or any other kind of psychosis," the man replied, seemingly un-phased by the interruption. "The way you seem to have rewritten events in your own life to incorporate your delusions fascinates me."

"So that's what you think it is?" Castle asked. "Is that what you think _she_ is? Nothing more than a delusion?"

"As you're unable to tell me how long this has been going on," the man offered in the same irritatingly calm tone he'd used for the last hour, "I can't be sure of that. You'll have to come back and see me in a month to get a more accurate diagnosis."

"A _month_?" Castle responded indignantly.

"For me to diagnose you with Unspecified Delusional Disorder, the symptoms would have to have lasted at least that long," he replied.

"I might not still be here in a month! Or at least, I _hope_ I'm not, anyway."

"Mr. Castle, what I believe to be most likely here is simply your way of coping with something you can't control. My suggestion to you would be to continue to see your therapist, spend some time with your daughter and mother, write, concentrate on your recovery, get plenty of rest and if you still don't recognise the world around you as reality in a month's time, come back to see me and we'll assess where to go from there. "

* * *

After returning home, Castle selected John Coltrane's instrumental cover of _My Favourite Things_ on the stereo and blared it at full volume as he stared at the ceiling.

He had always liked jazz but had never truly appreciated it until he had begun to listen to it with Kate. She'd taken him to jazz clubs, introduced him to more obscure artists in her collection, though he knew her favourites were the classics; the legends of the genre - Sinatra, Nina Simone and yes, Coltrane, among many others. She would sometimes put on a playlist of classic jazz for them to make love to.

He could clearly recall the feel of her skin on his as he moved inside her while this particular track played; her hot breath in his ear as she laughed when he sang along and demonstrated all of his favourite things which happened to coincide with parts of her body.

* * *

He slept for the rest of the afternoon. At around four o'clock, Dr. Kale called to inform him his blood test results had all come back normal. As far as she could tell, there was nothing physically wrong with him. He thanked his doctor and returned to bed, going back to sleep.

He missed her.


	5. Recollections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle goes to therapy.

When Castle's mother had told him his therapist was a woman, he hadn't known what to expect, but now, he supposed he'd expected someone put-together; a professional-looking type like Dr. Kale. To his surprise, she appeared to be none of those things. This woman had, at the very least, a good ten years on him and looked like a flower child straight out of the sixties. Her office even smelled of incense. Castle liked to think he was an open-minded sort of fellow with a lot of odd friends, but he wasn't sure he wanted to trust this woman with his mental health.

"Well, Rick, I understand introductions are once again in order. I'm Maureen, your therapist," she said, shaking his hand. "Please take a seat."

He sat on her couch uneasily.

"So, Rick, do you remember me or any of our previous sessions at all?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not," he replied.  
  
"You really don't, do you?" she said as she regarded him closely for a moment.

"Did you think I was making it up?" he asked.

"I would be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. It has been my experience that you are fond of practical jokes," Maureen pointed out. "You wasted three sessions trying to convince me you had dissociative identity disorder."

 "That sounds like something I would do," Castle said as he chuckled in spite of himself.

"I do miss Stefan the parking inspector sometimes. He was a nice touch; you almost had me fooled with that one," she said wistfully. "Anyway, Rick, though I'm a little disappointed you were sent to somebody else at first, I understand your doctor needing to get a diagnosis from an MD. As a typical psychiatrist, he is making you wait a month, but in the meantime, I'm happy to continue to see you. I've been filled in on your situation, but maybe you should tell me in your own words."

Castle took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Ok. Um... well, it would seem that I'm in love with a woman nobody remembers except me. Her name is Kate Beckett. I don't remember getting cancer. I distinctly remember consulting for the NYPD with her. I remember every single case and everything about Kate in intimate detail. My mother, however, tells me none of it is real."

"Do you believe her?" she asked.

"I don't believe she's lying to me. Based on the evidence, her story does appear to make more sense than mine. She has no motive to lie to me about something like this," he replied. "That doesn't mean I believe she's right."

"So, you believe that this... _Kate_ is real, and so are these other memories," Maureen concluded.

"I don't care if you think I'm crazy," Castle said emphatically, his voice taking on a harder edge. "I don't care what anyone says. I know in my heart and with every fibre of my being that she's real. I know that I didn't make her up. Frankly, I'm not that good a writer."

"Well, you have a point there," Maureen stated casually.

 

  
"What?" he said as he looked up, shocked out of his sudden tirade. "Uh - do - do you not think I'm a good writer?"

"You're the one who said it, Rick; I'm merely agreeing with you," Maureen replied.

"Well, aren't you supposed to make me feel better?" Castle tossed back. Despite his bruised ego, he was slowly starting to understand why he had apparently chosen this woman.

"I'm not here to tell you what you need to hear, Rick." Maureen pointed out, "I'm here to help you. I'm not saying you're not skilled, but I did do my research. I've read a good deal of your work and you've told me your process. You draw from real experiences a lot, correct?"

 "Perhaps I do," Castle said.

"Have you ever met anyone like this Kate Beckett character?" she asked.

"I don't know," he replied.

"From the memories that you possess, other than Kate Beckett herself, have you ever known _anyone_ like her?" she enquired.

He paused, reflecting on the question before replying.

"No. I mean, I have known strong, complex women - you could say it's my type but... none were like Kate. The closest I ever came was... Well, she wasn't really anything like her but in my mind... There was a woman named Sophia Turner."

"Clara Strike," she offered, nodding.

Castle found Maureen's intimate familiarity with his life unnerving. He had no recollection of how much he'd told her before today.

"Clara Strike was the closest character to Kate... well, other than Nikki Heat, but apparently I never wrote those books."

"Is Kate similar to Sophia?" she asked.

" _No,_ " Rick stated emphatically. "The Clara Strike character evolved in to a much different person, and anything that remained which may have been inspired by Sophia Turner, as it turns out, was a lie."

"Interesting that you would say that," Maureen observed.

"Why?" Castle asked. "Why is that interesting?"

  
"I think that's a topic for another day," she said after studying him for a moment. "So, tell me if I have this right: Clara started out like Sophia but she ended up being more like - "

"Kate," Castle finished, familiarity that he knew was more than déjà vu washing over him. He'd had this conversation with Beckett already. Either this therapist was extremely insightful or she wasn't real; merely a figment of his own imagination.

"You began by modelling Clara Strike on Sophia Turner, but as time went on, Clara became more than that. She became her own character, the woman you needed her to be. She became the kind of woman that you've always wanted for yourself, but it wasn't enough. You wanted to find the real thing. At a point in your life when you didn't think an intimate relationship was possible, but were craving that emotional intimacy and support, you conjured up Kate."

"Just... out of the blue?" Rick asked with more than a small degree of scepticism.

"Rick, this wasn't out of the blue at all. It was a result of years of romantic frustration paired with desperation during a very difficult time. I don't believe you were consciously aware you were creating her until she emerged, fully formed, into your conscious mind, complete with a vivid back-story worthy of any good heroine."

"Is that even possible?"

"I've witnessed stranger things in this job. The human mind is capable of many of things given the right amount of stress. Rick, you have shared a lot with me over the past two years, and you have never once mentioned Kate before. I don't believe there is anything seriously psychologically wrong with you. I think you just... your subconscious mind gave you what you needed to cope with a traumatic situation."

"Well, I'm not coping," Rick retorted, his frustration mounting as he spoke, "I'm perfectly fine with being in remission from cancer. It's better than still _having_ cancer, anyway. Why the hell would I need to make up a fantasy girlfriend _now_?"

"I don't know." Maureen shrugged. "But I can help you find out - if you want to."

"You're not going to be able to convince me that I'm wrong about this," Castle replied, "I don't know what's happening to me, but I _know_ that Kate Beckett is real. I _know_ that what we shared is real, and I know her and... I love her."

"Will you humour me, at least, and answer some questions?" Maureen asked.

"What do you want to know?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.

"Well, that's even more complicated," he replied. "I remember being in a dark room, tied to a metal chair... I was groggy, like I had been in there for days, maybe more, maybe less. I don't know. The last thing I remember was wishing I could be somewhere else, anywhere else. Next thing I knew I was in my bedroom."

"Do you remember how you came to be in this dark room?" Maureen asked quietly, not wanting to distract him from his recollections.

"I was driving in my Mercedes," Castle said. "It was our wedding day and I was on the phone with Kate. I told her I loved her before I hung up and then a car...no...wait...it was an SUV...a black one... came out of nowhere and... started bumping into the back corner of mine, trying to run me off the road... I pulled over and jumped out of the car, but they were ready for me."

_"They_?"

"Men in balaclavas. I'm not sure how many. They grabbed me. I struggled against them but there were too many of them. The key was still in the ignition. I realised there was another SUV, I'm not sure where it came from. One of them ran my car off a cliff and I was forced into the other one. There was a crash and I must have blacked out. Then I was in the dark room like I told you... I floated in and out of consciousness until I finally woke up in my bed at home... I thought the whole thing was a dream, that I must have been asleep the whole time. I reached out for Kate, expecting her to be there, but she wasn't. You already know the rest, I assume."

"Rick - " Maureen began, but Castle cut her off,

"You're _wrong_. I don't _need_ Kate. I _can_ live without her. I just don't want to. I chose her because I love her. I did _not_ create her as a coping mechanism! I went through hell and back with her. _I chose_ her _,"_ he repeated _, "_ and she chose _me_ and..." he started to choke up. "We were going to be married...and now she's gone... and everyone's acting like she's not real, like she was never here."

Maureen passed him a box of tissues.

"I don't need those. I'm not crying," Castle sobbed.

"Rick, this is a safe space," she assured him. "I've seen you cry before, if that helps."

"Oh, that makes me feel a lot better," Rick replied, still sniffling a little.

"You usually only cried when you were talking about Alexis. When you were going through your chemo treatments, the prospect of leaving her would really upset you."

  
"And..." Castle nodded, taking a tissue and wiping his eyes, "that's why I need to keep seeing you, for my daughter's sake. Being in a world without Kate... it's as bad as losing her. I'm..." he trailed off.

"You're grieving," Maureen supplied.

He nodded. That seemed as reasonable as anything else he'd heard to date.

  
"I don't mind going through that alone but... I need somewhere I can vent. I need a way to deal with not having Kate so that I can keep it together for Alexis. That doesn't mean I'm giving up on Kate. But I can't abandon my daughter, either."

"Does this mean you're willing to keep working with me?" she asked.

"I'm not going to deny Kate's existence; that will _never_ happen," Castle clarified. "But if you want to suggest something that might make it easier to cope with not knowing what's happened to her..."

"Rick, if you'd like a suggestion," Maureen said, "how about you start a journal? I'm happy to be here for you, but there may be times when all you really need to do is get all of these complex emotions and confusing thoughts off your chest by putting them on paper."

* * *

Castle was almost completely worn out on the couch when Martha arrived home. The session had gone on for the rest of the hour as he'd filled her in on a few more details about his memories, they'd discussed coping strategies and kept to lighter topics. All in all, this session had been greatly improved over the last therapist. Maureen may not believe him any more than anyone else did, but at least she listened.

"Richard, Darling, how did your session go?" Martha asked, not even trying to disguise her concern for his well-being.

Castle grunted in response. As productive as the session might have been, it had still been quite draining. Then again, most things were of late.

She wrinkled her nose as she carefully lowered herself into the seat next to him.

  
"What's that smell?" She gasped. "Richard, don't tell me you rode the subway."

"Ok, I won't," he said, rolling over.

"Kiddo, why didn't you take a cab?"

"I wanted to actually be on time. "

"You're supposed to be going to therapy, not gallivanting around the city all willy-nilly. "

"I wasn't... _gallivanting_. "

"Richard, I am merely looking out for you."

"Mother, I'm too tired to argue." Castle sighed. He knew she was genuinely concerned for him; he just didn't want to talk any more. He'd done enough of that with Maureen.

"Well, don't nap for too long, dear one; Alexis will be over for dinner in a few hours. And, er, you should probably shower before she gets here."

* * *

About an hour later, as he sat on his bed, Castle knew he still had enough time to get ready before Alexis was to arrive. Sighing, he grabbed his laptop, opened a new word document and began to type. He needed to be okay for Alexis' sake. If that meant starting a journal, so be it. He was no stranger to writing his feelings. He had two decades worth of best sellers to show for that.


	6. Friendship on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castle has a nice chat with Alexis and gets a call from someone unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta, Shutterbug5269, helped refine this chapter. The story is 100% mine but I have to give him credit for some of the words and even the style to an extent.

That evening, the door opened and Alexis walked into the room, draping her arms around her father's neck from behind and kissing his forehead. Castle rose to embrace her and she sat down next to him, squeezing his hand. At that moment, she got a call but she didn't take it.

"Sorry, Dad, I'll put it on silent," Alexis whispered.

"Max again?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I know this is none of my business, really," Castle began, "but if you're in a relationship with the guy, wouldn't that occasionally require you to talk to him?"

"We do talk," she said, "we talk all the time. He's always asking me how I am, telling me he loves me, asking if there's anything I need. "

"That Jerk," Castle whispered with a mischievous wink.

 "I must sound horrible to you," Alexis laughed.

"No," Castle replied, "it just sounds like you're going along with a relationship you don't want to be in."

"I used to," Alexis sighed. "  really did. But ever since Paris, things have been different between us."

Castle's stomach lurched and he was once again reminded that he was at a severe disadvantage, not knowing every element that conflicted with his memories. For all he knew, she could very well be referring to the kidnapping - but it was just as possible that she was talking about something else. Playing it safe, he simply nodded.

"He was wonderful, Dad, he really was. I broke up with Ashley because he wasn't there for me when I needed him. Max was everything Ashley wasn't; he was there for me but that was the problem: I didn't need him. I had my friends, Gram, my counsellor and you to talk to. What I wanted from him was to be how he was before the kidnapping."

So the kidnapping had happened here, too. That asked more questions than it answered, but he continued to listen.

"I didn't want to be treated differently. Things just... haven 't been the same between us since then but...he ticks all the boxes, Dad, and I can't help wondering if it would be a mistake to break up with him. "

"Alexis, you deserve to be with someone who's there for you," Castle said, "but you also deserve to be with someone you want to be with. Max sounds like a really nice guy. He deserves to be with someone who returns his ardour."

"Sounds like? Dad, you love Max," Alexis replied incredulously.

"Uh - yes, I do, I do," Castle stammered. "Sorry, I misspoke. My point is... Alexis, true romantic love is friendship on fire. Friendship without fire is just friendship - which is nice, but Alexis, I want you to be able to experience true love, cheesy as it sounds. I don't want you to close yourself off to that for something that's safe. It's not always about who ticks all the boxes. It's about someone who's going to be a partner, an equal. Can you honestly say that's Max? " Alexis looked up. "No." "Pumpkin, it's your call," Castle whispered into her hair as he hugged her tightly, "I just want you to be happy. " "I know, Dad. Thank you. "

 

 

The night had been wonderful. He'd laughed, talked and eaten with his family. He'd almost been able to pretend that everything was normal. Now it was the next morning, and once again he was alone in his bed. Once again, he had been forced to spend another night without Beckett. Castle sat up in bed and placed his feet on the floor. The black and white lion portrait caught his eye. He didn't know why, but its presence bothered him.

" _You shouldn't be here_ ," he whispered. Linus, of course, said nothing. Castle stared at the motionless photo. Some corner of his mind knew how crazy this was. The real lion the photo depicted had most likely perished years ago. Yet, for some reason, he was suddenly filled with an irrational antipathy towards the lifeless image. "What are you staring at?" he hissed, standing up, his voice growing louder and more angry with every word he spoke. "Answer me, you coward!" He stepped closer to Linus. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" He narrowed his eyebrows, his antipathy boiling over into an all-consuming rage. "This is your doing, isn't it? Yeah, I see it now. You didn't like being replaced by the sea-shells and retired to my study." He was beyond reason by this point, all of his anger and frustration at his current predicament directed at a portrait he had loved but was now a reminder of what was missing. Linus took the accusation passively, neither confirming nor denying. "You wanted to be top dog - or rather, _top cat_ \- again, so you created a universe in which you were still hanging in my bedroom, didn't you? Well, I don't like it! You hear me? I don't like it! Change it back!" Days of anger and confusion spurred inside him as he lashed out, landing a single punch right between the lion's eyes with every ounce of strength he had behind it, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud bang, cracking the frame. Castle stared at the web of blood-tinted shattered glass obscuring Linus' head and then down at his own bleeding knuckles, the realization of what he'd done setting in. "Oops. "

Martha had not chastised him when he'd called her into his bedroom, nor the whole way over to the hospital or while they were waiting for the doctor. Now, with his hand safely bandaged as they walked out of the emergency room, he knew she was ready to finally lay into him.

"This is getting out of hand," she said.

"Was that pun intended?" he replied, trying to deflect the uncomfortable discussion with humour.

"Richard," she scolded, "you're lucky you didn't need stitches. You could have done some serious damage to yourself. "

"It was an accident," he claimed.

"An accident? The glass _accidentally_ fell onto your fist? "

"Yep," he confirmed dryly.

"Don't make jokes about this, Richard, I'm not in the mood," Martha warned.

"Look...Mother... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, it just... sort of happened. "

"I don't understand," Martha replied softly, "I thought you were quite fond of that picture."

"I was - I am. It was just that... he was mocking me. "

"Mocking you? Kiddo, you know I would never discourage your wonderful imagination unless I felt your safety or health was at risk, but does this have anything to do with...Kate? "

"Maybe I'm a little frustrated about the whole situation, " he sighed.

"Well, that's normal," Martha said in a soothing tone, "but the next time you're feeling frustrated, call your therapist or me; don't get into fist-fights with the decor. Okay? "

He looked at his worried mother and kissed her forehead.

"Okay, mother, I promise. "

 

 

That afternoon he received a new package from Black Pawn. It appeared to be an advanced copy of his new book - at least, he assumed it was his book. His name was on it. It was titled _Sudden Risk_ and featured a picture of New York on the cover. As he hadn't gotten to reading Homage to a Murder, he didn't feel like reading this one just yet. Castle sat down at his desk and he put the book away in his drawer, rubbing his eyes. According to his mother, his recovery was almost complete and his transplant team was very happy with his progress. It didn't feel that easy to him. He missed the boundless energy he'd taken for granted. He missed the thickness of his hair. Hell, he even missed his old physique. Ok, so he hadn't been a body-builder, but Beckett had loved being enveloped in his large frame, had commented many times how much she enjoyed having something to hold onto in the throes of ecstasy. His own body felt foreign to him, like it belonged to someone else. He looked down at his bandaged hand. This was what happened when he let his frustration overtake reason. There was an explanation for all of this, he knew, he just hadn't found it yet, but was it worth what he was doing to himself to find the answer? Undoubtedly, Beckett was worth it, but what if he never figured it out? What if he was stuck here? Perhaps he should just learn to accept this version of reality for now, even though it still felt wrong to him; if for nothing else, for the sake of his family, not to mention his sanity. He was lifted from his reverie when his phone rang.

"Castle," he answered.

" _Good afternoon, Mr. Castle,_ " a familiar voice responded.

Castle sat up. Was it really who he thought it was on the other end, or was his mind once again playing tricks on him?

" _This is Lieutenant Javier Esposito from the forty-third Precinct, NYPD. I've been told you tried to contact me_."


End file.
